Cold and Broken
by angelinexo
Summary: In his drunken stupor, Grantaire had slept through the entire rebellion that his friends fought in. Drowning in wine and grief, he spirals out of control until a stranger takes it upon herself to help his cold and broken soul. AU.
1. Prologue

**Cold and Broken**

Grantaire struggled to open his eyes as a heavy boot kicked his side.

"Get up you drunkard," a voice boomed, sending shocks of pain through his head.

"What's going on?" Grantaire asked, struggling to sit up. His head hurt and he was slightly dizzy; the usual occurrence after a particularly bad binge.

Another man joined the one who had spoken earlier, and Grantaire could tell through barely open eyes that they were in uniform.

"Don't worry," the first man said to the second. "Just another drunkard passed out in the alley. He was probably too incapacitated to participate in the failed rebellion."

The two uniformed men left Grantaire alone to try and piece together his words.

_Failed rebellion?_ Grantaire thought as he sat up against the stone wall. He painfully looked around his surroundings and saw that it was deserted.

He rubbed his eyes and cradled his head in his hands as he tried to remember what had happened. He remembered that Enjolras had led the beginning of the rebellion at LeMarque's funeral. He remembered helping build the barricade. He remembered the spy, Javert. He remembered the gamine's death. He remembered sharing drinks with his friends, for they all knew it would most likely be the last time they would be able to do so in this lifetime.

Then nothing.

Absolutely nothing. No matter how hard he tried to remember, his mind was blank.

Fighting the nausea, he got up and slowly made his way down the alley, desperate for information.

The sunlight nearly blinded him, and he had to lift his arm to shield his eyes. When he was finally able to see somewhat clearly, he saw the barricade had been taken down, but the blood was still everywhere in the streets. His heart plummeted.

He stumbled towards the women who were cleaning the streets.

"Mademoiselles," he said, his voice hoarse. "Could you tell me… tell me what happened here?"

"M'sieur, haven't you heard? Some schoolboys staged a rebellion, building a barricade right here where we stand," one woman told him.

"The poor chaps didn't stand a chance," another added. "The French Army was too strong. They were all killed."

"All… killed?" Grantaire croaked.

"They were so young," another commented sadly. "Probably never even held a gun."

Grantaire couldn't listen to the chatter any longer and he rushed back to the alleyway to empty his stomach. His eyes filled with tears. Whether they were from grief or from the odor of the bile, he wasn't sure.

When he felt he could do no more, Grantaire collapsed on the ground, empty. Empty of alcohol, empty of friendship, empty of everything.

He had drunk himself into such a stupor that he missed the entire rebellion. And now all his friends were dead.

He was alone.

* * *

**This a new story that's been brewing in my head! Grantaire is my favorite character to write about, but I'm hoping to take his character in a different direction than my other stories. Please review and let me know what you think! xx**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Alice was on her way home from work, her head in the clouds as per usual, when she noticed something odd. Off on the side of the alleyway, there was a dirty old man going through the pockets of a lifeless figure.

Alice rushed up to him, screaming. "Hey!" The man was startled, and ran off.

She quickly kneeled down next to the lifeless figure. She shook him slightly, and heard him groan. He was alive.

"M'sieur, m'sieur," she said worriedly, shaking him. "Are you alright, m'sieur?" The figure did not respond. She stood up and rushed to the nearest police officer.

"Sir, please help me," she gestured towards the alleyway. "He was beaten and mugged, and I need help bringing him home."

The officer looked down at her suspiciously, sneering at her worn-out clothing. "And who is he to you?"

"He is…" she stuttered. "He is my brother. Please help me, m'sieur, I do not live far from here. Just up this street." The officer gave her another look, but followed her nonetheless.

Together, Alice and the police officer lifted the man off the ground as Alice led them to her small flat. Now that the stranger was in an upright position, she noticed that he was rather young, around twenty, with a mop of dark, curly hair. She hoped that the officer did not notice the stench of alcohol that was emanating from him.

Because the stranger was dead weight, it took the pair roughly twenty minutes to make it to her flat and place him on her mattress.

"Merci, merci," Alice thanked profusely as the officer left her flat. Alice quickly put away her work things before focusing on the stranger.

She kneeled next to her mattress, unsure of what to do. At the time she asked the officer for help, it had seemed like a good idea, to help a stranger who was clearly down on his luck. But Alice was not trained in any medical way. She had never had experience with something like this. She had no idea what to do.

She noticed that his face was stubbly, as if he had not shaved in a few days, and that there were smears of dirt on his face. Not knowing what else to do, she retrieved a damp washcloth and began to wipe his face.

When his face was clean, she was at a loss once again. She contemplated giving him a shave, but it seemed intrusive, and she did not quite trust herself with a blade. The man was clearly not going to wake up anytime soon. After a moment of staring at the stranger in thought, she decided to go about her normal chores, at least until the man woke up.

Alice gently covered the man in a blanket; he was shivering despite the summer heat. She frowned sadly, wondering what had brought this man to this low point, before turning back to her chores.

Alice had changed out of her work clothes, tidied up her small flat, went out quickly for a fresh loaf of bread, and started a simple soup on the stove when the man finally stirred.

"Where am I?" the man stirred. Alice quickly took the soup off the stove and made her way over to him, kneeling.

"My name is Alice. You're in my flat, M'sieur," she told him gently. "I found you in the alleyway being mugged."

The man flopped back down on the mattress in defeat. "You should have let him kill me."

Alice's eyes widened.

"M'sieur, I'm sure you don't mean that," she said, wringing her hands. "I had you brought here, and I cleaned you up a bit, and let you rest. I'm cooking supper right now. Just bread and soup." She flushed.

"Do you have any wine?" he asked. She wrinkled her nose.

"No, I do not," she told him.

"Bollocks," he muttered.

"Excuse me, M'sieur, but I don't think you should be drinking," she told him. "I think that must be why you were unconscious in the alleyway in the first place."

"I_ know _that's why I was unconscious in the alleyway," he corrected.

"Forgive me, M'sieur, for assuming things when I do not even know your name, but I cannot help but notice that you are not taking very good care of yourself," she said nervously.

"My name is Grantaire," he said. He paused before adding somberly, "My friends used to call me R."

"Used to, M'sieur?" she questioned without thinking.

"They are all dead," he croaked, staring directly above him at the ceiling. "And I should be too. You should not have saved me. You should not help me. Why waste your efforts on a man who wishes to die?"

"My condolences, M'sieur," she said, bowing her head in respect. "But just because your friends have died does not mean that you should waste your life as well."

"You know nothing of my life," Grantaire told her stonily.

"You're right, I do not," she conceded softly. She stood up slowly. "But I do wish to help you if you'll let me. You're welcome to stay here, as you need to. I live a modest life, as I'm only a laundry maid, but I can make do. I'm off to a friend's for a few hours. There is bread and soup on the table if you get hungry."

Alice paused, but Grantaire said nothing, so she gathered a few of her belongings before leaving him be, still staring at the ceiling in silence.

Harriet was not going to believe her day.

It was dark when Alice arrived back home. She tiptoed and locked the door behind her quietly in case her guest had fallen asleep, but the candles were still lit.

He still lay in her bed, almost in the exact same position as when she left. As she was putting away her cloak, she noticed that the level of soup was lower and that the loaf of bread was missing some slices. Apparently while she was gone, her guest had eaten.

"I also bought you some wine," the guest croaked, nearly causing Alice to jump. She turned, and on the table next to the bread was a bottle of wine, only half full. "Sorry I drank most of it. Not used to sharing. But as you made dinner, least I could do was provide some beverages."

"Water would have been fine, but thank you," she told him. She paused, biting her lip, unsure how to bring up this topic that she hadn't thought of until Harriet had questioned her.

"I know I said you could stay here as long as you needed," she started, "I truly do want to help you, M'sieur. But I'm afraid I only have one mattress."

For the first time, she a semblance of a smile graced the M'sieur's face. It was more of a smirk really. "I may be a bit of a drunkard, Alice, but I do not bite. As long as you have no objections, we can both share this bed and be comfortable rather than one of us pretending to be a martyr and sleep on the floor."

Alice flushed at his brashness but could not think of a proper argument. She was only a lowly laundry maid, with hardly any dignity to maintain anyway.

"That is acceptable," she nodded stiffly. She went to her small bureau and pulled out a nightgown, going into the bathroom to change. She had little dignity, but she had enough to not change in front of a man she had just met.

After she changed, she grabbed a candlestick, as she made sure everything was in order, and blew out the other candles around her flat. When all but the candle she carried was extinguished, she gingerly made her way to her mattress.

Her mattress was old, but comfortable enough. It was just wide enough to hold two people if they were to huddle close. Fortunately for Alice, she was a small, slender woman, and did not require much mattress space.

She gently lay down as close to the edge as possible, lying on her side with her back to Grantaire as to not touch or disturb him. He had still not moved from his position laying flat on his back. She placed the candle next to the mattress before blowing it out.

"Good night, M'sieur Grantaire," she said hesitantly into the dark as she closed her eyes.

Just before she slipped into the world of sleep, she heard Grantaire reply quietly, "Good night, mademoiselle."

Alice's eyes snapped open as she was jolted awake by a sharp pain in her side.

She quickly lit the candlestick that was next to the bed and saw that Grantaire's face was squeezed into a look of pain, sweat dripping from his curls, mumbling incoherently as he flailed about.

"Grantaire, Grantaire," she tried waking him, similarly to the way she found him the afternoon before. But he continued to flail about, seemingly oblivious to everything around him.

He kept mumbling, names it sounded like, and tears were starting to roll down his face. Alice started to panic, unsure of what to do. He seemed to be in such pain.

Almost instantly, she knew what to do. Sitting up on the mattress, leaning against the wall, she struggled to pull Grantaire against her chest. She wrapped one arm across his chest, holding him close, and caressed his damp hair with her other hand. She started making soothing sounds into his ear, just as her mother had done when she was a child and had nightmares.

A few moments passed, but Grantaire still didn't settle down completely. A melody came to her mind as she rocked Grantaire gently. It was the old lullaby her parents used to sing to her, so she started singing it softly, hoping it would bring Grantaire comfort the way it did for her.

It worked.

Alice let out a sigh of relief as Grantaire stopped wriggling in her arms, and his face began to relax. She closed her eyes, glad that she could end his pain, if only momentarily. She was so relieved that she quickly fell asleep, Grantaire still in her arms.


End file.
